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Sir Alastair


Clip, clop. Clip, clop. Clip, clop.

The people on the narrow street moved aside to let the horseman go by. The chestnut mare held a steady paste as she trotted through the narrow street. The uneven stone blocks were wet and dirty. But no one really paid no mind. A few drunkards were forced off the road so that they were not trampled by the horse, which was followed by a dog. They raised their fists and curse at the rider.

The rider wore a black cloak. So, not much could be seen of his face except for a bit of a small beard. He held onto the reigns loosely as the horse made her way through the street.

They came to a halt in front of an inn. It was well lit, and chatter could be heard through the doors. Getting off his horse, he tied it to a post and patted the dog's head.

"Alright, Reighleigh," the man spoke to the dog, his voice was quiet, thought a bit gruff, "watch the horse."

The dog tilted his head and sat down next to the horse, who didn't seem bothered, but helped herself to some of the water on the wooden trough. The cloaked man walked over to the door, pushing it open. Briefly, the darkening street was illuminated with light, but then returned to its darken, gloomy self when the door closed.

Sir Alastair

The Mare nickered softly when the woman came over to pet her. Her tail whisked about. Another woman appeared with two buckets. The mare lowered her head and snorted at it's contents before drinking. The dog in other hand, had his eyes fixated onto the door.

He stared at it intently, like a hawk would watch it's prey. After a while, his somewhat floppy ears perked up, and he stood up to his full height. A frightening 37 inches, the Brindle Great Dane padded over to the door as it opened. The dog rose to his hind legs and attempted to place his paws onto the man's chest.

But he was pushed down to his paws. The cloaked man scratched the dog from behind his ears and then turned to his horse. He blinked few times when he saw the two maidens by the horse. Noticing her master's return, the horse nickered, as if cooing at him, she stomped the ground.

The man watched as the two women talked before clearing his throat.

"Excuse me, M'Ladies, I'm very sorry to interrupt your conversation," he started, "but I do believe that this is my horse."

He nodded his head at the Chestnut mare, and slightly implied that he wanted to get to his horse.

Sir Alastair

The man, still shrouded by the cloak, bowed his head to the woman briefly before untying the reigns from the post. He did not get on the horse, but led her to the stables near by. The dog followed. Upon entering the stable, he handed the stable boy a note and a few coins. Accepting the money and briefly glancing at the note, he lead the mare to an empty stall.

The stable was somewhat small, only room for six horses. Five of the stalls were already occupied. He was lucky to get one. The ground was littered with hay, and it smelled. But after all, all stables smelled. The man couldn't help but to crinkle at the smell. He wasn't used to it.

The man told the boy to fetch some water for the dog, whom had made himself comfortable under a bench. Rushing off to get what the man requested, the stable became silent (except for the few other horses that snorted or nickered). The cloaked figure removed the tack from the horse and stowed them away safely. He took his bag, which surprisingly consisted most of his belongings and bid good night to his dog and horse.

He then left the stables and then returned to the inn. The two women, they were still there. He stopped and then spoke:

"It is best that you two do not stay out too late. Men, specially when intoxicated, can be very unpredictable at times."

This was some friendly advice. After all, he was a gentleman, and it seemed suitable to warn them. With his bag hanging on his shoulder, and his hand on what seemed like the hilt of a sword, he pushed the Inn's door open and vanished into the crowd of chattering and gay(merry) townsfolk.